


no care, no care in the world

by orphan_account



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: A bit OOC?, Drug Use, Feels, M/M, a bit of angst, fluff at the end, im new to the fandom, inappropriate language, wrench is high and gets kinda emotional, wrench's POV but as 3rd person limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A night spent by Wrench and Marcus on a rooftop. Thoughts, anger, feelings and a turning point in their relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> uhh my first fic w actual detailed feelings (tm) in like?? two years??  
> hope u enjoy and pls b sure to notify me abt the mistakes!
> 
> written while listening to 'no care' by daughter (the lyrics' subtext kinda doesnt fit but still)

It's all about the business, Wrench is sure of that.  
Well, if someone could call hacking, trying to take big companies down and exploding random things _business._

Three AM, it's dark.  
Wrench is high.  
Some weird dust he managed to find in his garage; not one of those expensive-ass drugs for the wacky rich kids, no. Probably something from the streets, painfully cheap. He was never the one for the 'cool' stuff.

Wrench's arms are around Marcus, holding him as if clinging onto dear life; he grunts quietly with his synthetic voice, small sounds unintentionally slipping out of his vocal chords and into the voice modulator, then coming out as weak, fake-sounding exhales.  
The mask is showing two small 'x's, and behind it, Wrench feels his heavy eyelids fall, shutting his eyes. The pixel emoticons don't even change. At least, so he assumes.  
His eyes hurt as if thousands of sharp sticks were poking at them, and he feels as if the dark spots under the eyes are burning.

Three oh-nine AM, it's still dark, Wrench is high and Marcus is still there.  
They're sitting on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge; Wrench always appreciated the risk, the border between staying alive and falling off of the tall building.  
He doesn't release Marcus from his arms' dead grasp just yet; he found the "right" damn time to re-think about what's between them.  
Yes, they trust each other to death; yes, they're constantly hanging out with each other. Yet, Marcus chose him over the charming, artistic Sitara and the shy yet adorable Josh.  
Wrench had no idea what had Marcus found in him.  
Yes, they kissed. Yes, they've shared a few... _intimate_ moments between each other; none ever talked about it, and they would always pretend that never happened.  
And still, Wrench was irritated by Marcus's benevolence.  
Sometimes he wondered, how did the damn ctOS thing mistake _Marcus,_ Marcus the hipster-ish nerd who wears embarrassingly funny underwear and has awkward puns, as a criminal?  
He remembered when his... - friend? ally? whoever he is - ...was erasing his profile, after deleting all the info, the fucking thing managed to recognize Marcus as a potential threat anyways.  
An unemployed black male owning a gun.

Fucking racism, that's what that was.

 

Wrench's mask went '\ /' - an angry expression - at the thought.  
'You alright?'  
Oh, _of course_ Marcus had to check on him.  
He was both annoyed and touched at the same time with Marcus's curiosity.  
'Yeah, just thinking.'  
'About what?'  
'You.'

What the fuck?  
Why the fuck did he just answer like that? 

'...what do you mean?'  
Wrench mentally facepalms.  
'Just, uh. Nevermind.'

He turns away from the other hacker, feeling the light breeze caress his exposed forehead and touch his short bangs.  
He wishes it was Marcus's hand.  
He was sick and tired of trying to imagine, to pretend that what he wanted was real. It never worked.

And so he lights a cigarette, just to relieve his exhaustion. A cheap one, too, he knows that by living like that - cheap drugs, cheap booze, cheap cigarettes - he won't even live until 35.  
Yet, when he brings it to his mouth, a sudden, unexplained wave of disgust strikes over him, and he draws the cigarette away from himself. He gives it his best hateful, spiteful glare from behind his mask, before putting it out on his hand, hissing violently; then he throws the damn thing from the rooftop.

'Wrench?' Marcus is worried, his voice is groggy. 'Yo, Wrench!'

Suddenly, Wrench started babbling unconsciously, as if he was controlled.  
As if it wasn't him, but someone else in his skin. Having fun when he didn't.

'I mean, I got kinda angry 'cause I recalled that one moment when you deleted your profile and the ctOS showed that you were still a threat and I thought about how fucking _unfair_ that was 'cause you're better than that and then I thought about _why_ did you choose me, of all the DedSec members, - no, of all the people in San Fran, - you still chose me! I'm a freaky guy who hides his face and wears spiky clothing and blows stuff up for fun and steals stuff and rarely exits his own garage, why, why, why-'

Wrench's monologue was interrupted by Marcus.

'Look. Wrench, no matter how 'freaky' you think you are, I'm still here for you. I'm not leavin' you.'

The masked man became quiet for a second, his breaths becoming faster and louder.  
Fuck, was Marcus _that_ oblivious when it came to Wrench's feelings? Didn't he ever question it all?

Wrench doesn't quite comprehend the reasons behind his next action, - maybe tiredness, maybe being high or being sick of all those little games - yet he knows he will regret it.

Wrench tears his mask off of his face furiously before crashing his lips with Marcus's.  
He expects the darker man to shove him away or even push him down so he'd fall from the rooftop - but he actually doesn't expect Marcus to wrap his arms around Wrench's waist.  
The kiss is simple - dry, slightly bloodied and bitten lips meeting chapped ones.  
When he looks up at Marcus, his eyes are still open as well; he's studying Wrench's face, every single curve of it, before interrupting the kiss.  
Marcus soothingly traces the burn on Wrench's face - the one from the FBI and Dušan interrogating him - with his lips, before pressing small pecks elsewhere at Wrench's face.  
The blonde man just kissed Marcus again, - no words and no shows, just raw emotion held back for too long - and when they both stop, their faces are still close to each other. Their eyes meet, and Wrench's breath hitches.  
He grasps both of Marcus's hoodie's sleeves with his hands, barely noticing the faded scars on his wrists beneath the tattoos, and exhales shakily.  
'Love you in fuckin' panic,' is the only thing Wrench manages to mutter out before falling head forward onto Marcus's chest.

He blacks out.

 

_____

When he wakes up, he's warm.  
Wrench opens his eyes just to find himself in someone else's bed. There's a silhouette traced on the sheets next to him, and he has no recollection of yesterday.

His head feels like it's going to crack open this very moment, and that wasn't ever a part of his plan. Shit, he wasn't even sure if he had a plan.  
The digital clock on a small table near the bed shows 1:49 PM.

Ten hours of sleep. A new record for the past ten years.

It takes Wrench a while to realize he isn't in his mask, nor in his clothes, and he has no idea where his phone is.  
Panicking a little, he finds the mask and the phone on the table next to the clock; he soon sees his clothes in the closet, folded carefully, and his shoes next to the bed.

He looks around; there are a few hip-hop artists' posters, a radio, some action figures and a small TV.  
Could this be...?

Wrench notices a small yellow sticky note on the clock.

'You passed out, I brought you here. Breakfast's in the kitchen, you can put it in the microwave. Call me whenever you want, just he sure to do that, please. 

<3,  
\- M'

Wrench couldn't help but smile goofily at the text.


End file.
